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UNIV.  OF  CAUF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGLES 


LETTERS  FROM  A  FATHER 
TO  HIS  DAUGHTER 
ENTERING  COLLEGE 


BY 

CHARLES  FRANKLIN  THWING, 
D.D.,  LLD. 

President  of  the  College  for  Women, 
of  Western  Reserve  University. 


Jfant  fork 
THE  PLATT  &  PECK  CO. 


Copyright,  1913,  by 
THE  PLATT  &  PECK  CO. 


PREFATORY  NOTE. 

Parts  of  these  letters,  like  parts  of  the 
corresponding  "Letters  to  a  Son,"  were  read 
to  my  own  college  girls  at  the  beginning  of  a 
college  year.  In  them  I  have  tried  to  write 
both  as  a  parent  and  as  a  president.  For 
each  relation  is  full  of  infinite  meanings,  and 
each  relation  easily  flows  into  the  other.  I 
am  glad,  at  the  wish  of  the  publisher,  to  give 
these  letters,  paternal  and  academic,  a  wider 
hearing  than  either  the  individual  home  or 
college  chapel  can  offer. 

C.  F.  T. 

College  for  Women, 
Western  Reserve  University, 
Cleveland,  September,  1913. 


i 

2133140 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

I    Choosing  a  College  9 

II    College   Life:—   14 

What  it  is  not; 
What  it  is. 

III  The  College  and  the  Home 24 

IV  The  Value  of  Health   31 

V    Democracy  and  Cultivation  37 

VI    The  Best  for  Yourself  48 

VII    Teachers    51 

VIII    Books    54 

IX    Living  your  Life  57 

X    Friendships    60 

XI    Three  Special  Things:—  68 

Voice 

Handwriting 

Dress 

XII    The  Elements  of  Religion  73 


LETTERS  FROM  A  FATHER 
TO  HIS  DAUGHTER  EN- 
TERING COLLEGE 


My  dear  Daughter: 

THERE  has  never  been  any 
question  about  your  going  to 
college.  Your  mother's  life  at  Vas- 
sar  had  given  her  a  special  eagerness 
to  send  her  daughter  to  that  or  some 
other  good  college.  But  now,  that 
the  college  is  decided  upon,  I  can 
easily  see  that  there  were  three, 
among  other  reasons,  which  have 
led  us  to  make  our  choice. 

One  reason  is  that  the  college  is 
not  too  big.  A  very  big  college  for 
boys  is  bad,  but  a  very  big  college 

9 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

for  girls  is  worse.  For  do  not  girls 
have  peculiar  need  of  individual 
care?  There  should  be,  I  believe, 
specially  careful  oversight  of  each 
and  every  one.  When  I  think,  too, 
of  how  large  a  part  of  your  life 
and  work  will  be  individual,  I  am 
the  more  eager  that  you  in  your  edu- 
cation should  not  be  one  of  a  mass. 
A  big  college,  of  course,  you  may 
say,  should  give  as  careful  care  to 
the  individual  as  the  small.  It 
should:  but  it  does  not,  and,  cer- 
tainly, it  is  more  difficult,  and  these 
difficulties  the  colleges  do  not  seem 
to  have  the  machinery  for  overcom- 
ing. So  I  am  glad  you  are  going  to 
a  college  big  enough  for  you  to  find 
10 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


a  field  of  companionship,  a  variety 
and  richness  of  studies,  and  not  so 
big  that  you  will  be  regarded  by  the 
president  as  one  among  a  thousand. 
I  am  also  glad  we  have  decided  to 
send  you  to  a  college  near  a  big  city, 
but  not  in  it.  A  college  for  girls  in 
a  big  city  does  not  give  room  for 
play,  in  both  the  metaphorical  and 
literal  sense,  and  girls  must  have  a 
chance  to  play,  to  be  their  free 
selves ;  but  a  college  far  away  from 
a  big  city  always  seems  to  me 
to  make  the  temptation  pretty 
strong  to  fall  into  habits  of  dress 
and  manner  which  the  world  does 
not  value  highly.  I  want  you  to  be 
urbane,  and  urbane  is  only  urban 
11 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

with  the  last  vowel  added.  But  I 
also  want  you  still  to  have  room  and 
space  and  time  for  play. 

But,  there  is  a  third  reason,  too, 
for  our  choice.  I  have  not  wanted 
to  send  you  to  a  college  where  there 
are  boys.  I  wonder  if  I  can  tell  you 
just  why.  I  think  the  reason  is 
something  of  this  sort: — College 
life  has  many  problems,  and  some 
hard  ones,  for  the  girl.  They  are, 
for  some  girls,  so  many  and  so 
hard,  that  they  are  not  able  to  see 
through  them  or  to  think  through 
them,  or  even  to  feel  their  way 
into  or  through  them.  I  do  not 
want  to  add  to  your  problems  un- 
necessarily. The  presence  of  boys 
U 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


is  liable  to  make  for  some  girls  a 
problem  or  a  series  of  problems. 
The  problem  which  the  boy  repre- 
sents should  be  deferred  for  most 
girls  till  graduation,  and  it  is  also  a 
problem  which  the  parent  rather  see 
solved  under  his  own  eyes.  While 
I  believe  we  ought  to  have  co-edu- 
cational colleges,  and  also,  while  I 
believe  that  certain  girls  will  find  it 
well  to  go  to  them,  I  am  glad  you  are 
going  to  a  college  where  the  boy- 
problem,  or  the  man-problem,  will 
not  be  presented  every  hour  of  ev- 
ery day,  and  day  by  day  of  each  of 
your  one  hundred  and  forty-four 
weeks. 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

n 

But,  now,  having  told  you,  as  I 
have  not  before,  of  some  of  the  rea- 
sons leading  to  our  choice,  what 
shall  I  tell  you  of  your  college  life? 
Perhaps  I  should  begin  with  saying 
what  it  is  not,  or  what  it  should 
not  be.  Misinterpretations  are  too 
common.  One  of  these  misinter- 
pretations refers  to  the  value  of  a 
college  education. 

Some  girls  regard  a  college  edu- 
cation as  of  very  great  significance. 
It  is  the  all,  the  be-all,  and  the  end- 
all  of  life.  To  the  college  they 
have  looked  forward  with  longing 
and  contentment.  They  have  nei- 

H 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


ther  dared  nor  cared  to  look  beyond 
college  years  or  college  walls. 
This  condition  was  more  com- 
mon formerly  than  now.  The  di- 
vision between  the  academic  world 
and  the  non-academic  world  was 
more  marked.  To-day,  the  college 
woman  finds  her  way  into  every  call- 
ing where  brain  and  character  have 
an  opportunity, — and  what  calling 
is  there  where  brain  and  character 
lack  an  opportunity*? — and  the  col- 
lege student  sees  her  sister  alumnae 
doing  all  the  things  that  every  one 
does,  and  she  therefore  is  not  in- 
clined to  look  upon  the  college  ex- 
perience as  unique. 
Some  girls  regard  a  college  course 

15 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

as  a  matter  of  but  slight  conse- 
quence. It  is  a  mere  incident  or  ac- 
cident. Its  four  years  are  only  five 
per  cent  of  one's  four  score  years  of 
life.  Its  successes  bear  no  relation 
to  life's  success,  or  its  failures  to 
life's  failure.  The  student  delights 
to  point  out  the  women  who  have 
not  gone  to  college.  Where  and 
how  was  "George  Eliot"  educated? 
Wherein  lies  the  truth?  It  is 
safe  to  say  that  college  is  not  the  be- 
all  or  the  end-all.  It  is  also  safe  to 
say  that  college  is  not  a  mere  in- 
cident. The  college  is  neither  a 
purpose,  a  final  cause,  nor  a  result; 
the  college  is  always  a  means,  a 
method,  a  force.  Its  power  over 
16 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


some  women,  be  it  confessed,  is 
slight.  Some  women  leave  the  col- 
lege the  same  women  they  came, 
with  slight  exceptions.  The  power 
over  others,  be  it  said,  is  hardly  less 
than  tremendous.  It  has  turned 
the  stream  of  their  life's  thought. 
It  has  given  them  a  vision  of  possi- 
bility. It  has  inspired  desires  for 
making  real  the  content  of  this  vi- 
sion. It  has  opened  the  windows  of 
their  souls  and  the  air  of  human  life 
has  swept  in  to  make  a  sturdy  and 
fine  character.  It  has  brought  them 
to  the  world  of  good  books  and  the 
preciousness  of  good  souls.  It  has 
given  them  a  sense  of  proportion 
and  an  appreciation  of  values,  a  re- 

17 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

spect  for  the  law  that  underlies  all 
laws.  It  has  strengthened  individu- 
ality, it  has  lessened  eccentricities. 
It  has  deepened  the  sense  of  individ- 
uality and  it  has  also  deepened  the 
sense  of  humanity.  It  has  taken 
away  caddishness  and  callowness, 
and  made  one  a  genuine  good  fel- 
low. It  has  trained  one  to  win  tri- 
umphs with  humility  and  to  bear 
defeats  with  calmness.  It  has  in- 
creased respect  for  the  decencies  and 
the  sanctities  of  life.  It  has  en- 
larged the  sense  of  humanity  and 
developed  the  sense  of  friendship. 
It  has,  with  all  intellectual  enrich- 
ment, tried  to  add  strength  to  the 
strength  of  the  will,  and  sensitive- 
18 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


ness  to  the  mainspring  of  con- 
science. It  has  taken  the  daughter 
from  the  family  for  a  time,  but  it 
has  given  an  added  respect  for  the 
preciousness  of  the  hearth-stone. 
Without  infringing  upon  the  per- 
sonal relations  which  one  bears  to 
one's  God,  it  has  sought  to  make 
that  relation  more  vital,  more  rea- 
sonable, more  natural  and  more 
commanding. 

A  further  misinterpretation,  or 
over-valuation,  relates  to  moral  and 
intellectual  values.  College  wom- 
en are  inclined  to  have  an  undue 
appreciation  of  intellectual  values 
and  an  undue  depreciation  of  eth- 
ical values.  Most  come  to  college 

19 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

with  the  idea  that  the  college  is  the 
creator  of  intellectual  power  only. 
I  heard  a  most  impressive  speech 
made  at  the  last  commencement  in 
favor  of  the  proposition.  The  col- 
lege is  indeed  to  create  intellect. 
The  text-book  is  the  Genesis  of  our 
intellectual  Bible.  The  class-room 
is  the  bare  waste  over  which  the  in- 
tellectual spirit  is  to  brood  and  to 
bring  forth  life.  The  teacher  is,  to 
use  the  Socratic  figure,  to  minister 
to  the  intellectual  new  birth.  If  it 
is  not  true,  the  college  ought  to  burn 
the  library,  blow  up  the  laboratory, 
and  send  the  students  home.  But 
we  have  learned  that  man  is  not  in- 
tellect only,  and  we  have  learned 
20 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


that  intellect  does  not  work  alone. 
Man  is  a  unit.  One  can  not  attain 
intellectual  results  unless  the  feel- 
ings are  in  a  proper  state  and  the 
will  fittingly  directed.  If  the  feel- 
ings are  riotous,  the  powers  of  reflec- 
tion are  disturbed.  If  the  appetites 
are  not  properly  guarded,  the  power 
of  perception  is  lessened.  Man  is 
one.  His  powers  are  to  be  kept 
in  equilibrium.  Keep,  create,  in- 
crease, all  the  intellectual  powers. 
But  you  should  know  that  the  eth- 
ical forces  are  of  great  value.  Of 
course  it  is  more  important  to  be 
strong  than  to  be  able  to  decline  vir- 
tus•,  to  stand  four-square  to  all  the 
heavens  than  to  be  able  to  prove 
21 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

the  propositions  about  the  parallel- 
ogram, to  have  a  pure  heart  than  to 
speak  pure  English.  Of  course  it 
is,  and  the  most  materialistic  of  all 
college  officers  would  say  that  it  is, 
true.  This  truth  receives  illustra- 
tion in  the  fact  that  the  intellectual 
forces  have  had  much  less  to  do  with 
the  progress  of  the  world  and  of 
mankind  than  is  commonly  be- 
lieved. 

Another  lack  of  proper  estimation 
is  seen  in  the  over-valuation  of 
knowledge  and  the  under-valuation 
of  power.  It  is  natural  for  a  col- 
lege woman  to  over-estimate  the 
value  of  knowledge.  Has  she  not 
been  learning  all  these  eight  or 
22 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


twelve  years'?  Has  she  not  passed 
examinations  according  as  she  knew, 
and  failed  according  as  she  did  not 
know*?  If  she  knew,  she  has  been 
called  bright,  clever,  brilliant,  a 
genius  in  the  bud;  if  she  did  not 
know,  she  has  been  called  stupid, 
and  foolish.  If  she  knew,  her  path- 
way has  been  an  easy  and  happy 
one;  if  she  did  not  know,  her  path- 
way has  been  a  hard  and  miserable 
one.  This  will  continue  after  col- 
lege also.  You  will  still  find  it  con- 
venient to  know.  But  I  would 
have  you  believe  that  all  knowl- 
edge is  of  small  worth  for  its  own 
sake.  Knowledge  is  of  chief  worth 
because  it  gives  you  material  for 

23 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

thought,  and  the  process  of  acquir- 
ing knowledge  is  of  chief  value  be- 
cause it  trains  you  in  the  methods  of 
thinking.  Thought  is  of  worth  be- 
cause it  is  the  chief  power  among 
men.  The  college,  and  the  world, 
can  not  have  too  many  scholars. 
There  will  be  few,  and  only  a  few, 
at  the  best.  But  the  world  needs 
women  who  can  think,  and  think 
largely,  broadly,  justly,  accurately 
and  comprehensively. 

Ill 

I  perhaps  ought  to  begin  this 
letter  by  saying  that,  while  you  are 
in  college,  you  must  not  forget  your 
home. 

24 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


The  purpose  of  the  home  is  the 
purpose  of  the  college.  The  parent 
desires  his  daughter  to  become  wise 
and  large-minded,  great  in  heart, 
strong  in  will,  and  appreciative  of 
all  that  is  good  and  beautiful.  The 
teacher  also  seeks  to  secure  wisdom 
through  learning  and  to  cause  wis- 
dom to  become  a  guide  of  the  will 
in  its  choices  of  right  and  of  duty. 
The  son  of  Josiah  Quincy,  one  of 
the  most  useful  presidents  of  Har- 
vard College,  says  of  his  father: 
"His  heart's  desire  was  to  make 
the  College  a  nursery  of  high- 
minded,  high-principled,  well- 
taught,  well-conducted,  well-bred 
gentlemen,  fit  to  take  their  share, 

25 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

gracefully  and  honorably,  in  public 
and  private  life."  I  am  sure  that 
the  desire  of  President  Quincy  for 
his  students  was  the  same  desire 
which  he  as  a  parent  had  for  his  chil- 
dren. 

The  identity  of  the  aim  of  the 
home  and  of  the  college  is  indeed 
significant.  For  the  idea  is  alto- 
gether too  strong  and  too  commonly 
held  that  the  college  is  either  remote 
from  or  even  antagonistic  to  the 
home,  that  its  ideals  are  not  the 
ideals  of  the  home,  nor  its  way  of 
securing  these  ideals  the  methods 
which  the  home  adopts.  To  be  sure, 
a  superficial  interpretation  gives 
ground  for  the  judgment  of  such 
26 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


alienation.  For  the  sons  and 
daughters  are  away  from  home. 
College  life  is  at  once  monastic  and 
communal.  Domestic  life  is  not 
monastic  and  in  many  respects 
is  not  communal.  College  people 
live  in  an  atmosphere  of  freedom. 
The  domestic  atmosphere  is  one  of 
dependence  and  supervision.  But 
after  all  the  superficial  and  tempo- 
rary differences,  at  bottom  the  col- 
lege wants  what  the  home  wants; 
the  home  wants  what  the  college 
wants, — the  finest  type  of  the  lady 
and  of  the  gentleman. 

I  also  wish  to  say  that  the  college 
should  have  the  attitude  and  mood 
of  the  home  in  trusting  the  girl. 
2? 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

The  girl  who  comes  to  college  mis- 
trusted by  her  home,  under  the  fear 
that  she  will  not  prove  worthy 
either  in  intellect  or  character  is 
very  prone  to  prove  that  she  was 
worthy  of  this  lack  of  trust.  The 
girl  who  comes  to  college  trusted  is 
inspired  to  prove  herself  worthy 
of  the  trust.  Nothing  makes  the 
young  or  the  old  child  so  worthy  of 
being  trusted  as  being  trusted. 
This  was  the  method  of  Arnold  of 
Rugby.  It  was  also  the  method  of 
President  Quincy,  from  whom  I 
have  already  quoted.  His  son  says 
of  him  that  in  his  intercourse  with 
the  students  "He  always  took  it  for 
granted  that  they  were  gentlemen 
28 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


and  men  of  honor.  He  never 
questioned  the  truth  of  any  story 
any  of  them  told  him,  when  in  aca- 
demic difficulties,  however  improb- 
able it  might  be.  That  statement 
was  accepted  as  truth  until  it  was 
overthrown  by  implacable  facts  and 
inexorable  evidence.  Then,  be- 
yond doubt,  the  unhappy  youth  was 
made  to  know  the  value  of  a  good 
character  by  the  inconvenience  at- 
tending the  loss  of  it."  One  of  the 
most  significant  remarks  ever  made 
about  Arnold  was  that  made  by  the 
boys  at  Rugby, — "We  wouldn't  lie 
to  Arnold;  he'd  believe  us." 

But  the  college  has  relations  to 
the  home,  as  well  as  the  home  to  the 
29 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

college.  After  three  or  four  years 
of  sojourn  the  college  turns  the  girl 
back  to  the  home.  It  may  be  at 
once  said  that  it  is  a  little  difficult 
for  her  to  resume  these  domestic  re- 
lations. If  she  has  not  lost  touch 
with  the  personalities  of  the  home, 
she  has  lost  touch  with  its  forms 
and  methods,  standards  and  at- 
mospheres. Herein  lies  an  argu- 
ment for  the  girl  and  the  boy,  too, 
going  to  a  college  so  near  home  that 
these  relations  are  not  wholly  or 
largely  severed.  But  she  is  to  put 
herself  back  into  these  relations. 
She  is  to  be  an  obedient  daughter,  a 
helpful  sister  and  a  happiness-bear- 
ing associate.  She  is  to  be  remote 
30 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


from  all  sophomoric  remoteness  and 
from  senior  loftiness.  She  is  to  be- 
come interested  in  all  the  interests 
of  the  home.  She  is  to  bear  into  its 
well-being  a  gentleness  which  is 
sympathetic,  a  strength  and  an  ap- 
preciation which  is  loyal  and  rich 
and  fine.  She  is  to  assume  respon- 
sibilities. She  is  to  be  efficient 
without  officiousness. 

IV 

And  now,  I  want  to  tell  some  most 
obvious  truths,  and  to  tell  them,  too, 
in  such  a  way,  if  possible,  that  they 
may  help  you  in  college  life,  every 
day. 

The  college  girl  will  find  it  diffi- 

31 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

cult  to  emphasize  too  strongly  the 
value  of  health.  Whatever  may  be 
the  worth  of  general  physical  sound- 
ness yet  this  soundness  has  at  least 
three  special  values. 

First,  it  gives  aid  in  holding  and 
getting  sound  views  of  life.  Life 
is  a  mirror.  One  smiles  into  it  and 
it  smiles  back.  One  scowls  and  it 
scowls.  If  one  is  sick,  all  of  life  is 
in  peril  of  becoming  sickly.  Peo- 
ple who  have  broken  hips  always 
find  that  the  chief  injuries  that  men 
suffer  are  broken  hips.  If  one  is 
well,  vigorous,  sound,  all  life  seems 
well,  vigorous,  sound.  Now,  all 
life  is  not  well,  vigorous  and  sound, 
but  if  one  is  well,  vigorous  and 
32 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


sound,  one's  own  vigor  helps  to 
transmute  all  life  into  vigor.  It  is 
also  advantageous  to  interpret  life 
in  terms  of  its  highest  helpful- 
ness. Its  verb  is  to  be  conjugated 
in  the  perfect,  or  pluperfect,  tense 
of  action,  of  noblest  attainment  and 
of  highest  condition. 

Second,  health  has  a  value  to  oth- 
ers quite  as  great  as  to  oneself.  It 
is  good  to  be  able  to  give  an  impres- 
sion of  vigor.  I  know  Carlyle  says 
of  himself  as  a  student  at  Edin- 
burgh that  these  were  the  three  most 
miserable  years  of  his  life — "a  prey 
to  nameless  struggles  and  miseries, 
which  have  yet  a  kind  of  horror  in 
them  to  my  thoughts,  three  weeks 

33 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

without  any  kind  of  sleep,  from  im- 
possibility to  be  free  from  noise." 
One  also  recalls  the  struggle  with 
ill  health  which  the  great  Darwin 
made.  Frequently,  again  and  again, 
he  writes  in  this  mood :  "I  am  quite 
knocked  up,  and  am  going  next 
Monday  to  revive  under  water- 
cure."  "Before  starting  here  (hy- 
dropathic establishment)  I  was  in 
an  awful  state  of  stomach,  strength, 
temper  and  spirits."  "I  have  not 
had  one  whole  day,  or  rather  night, 
without  my  stomach  having  been 
greatly  disordered  during  the  last 
three  years,  and  most  days  great 
prostration  of  strength." 
Thomas  Huxley  also  writes  com- 

34 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


plaining  "of  weariness  and  dead- 
ness  hanging  over  him,  accompanied 
by  a  curious  nervous  irritability." 
At  the  age  of  thirty-two,  Robert 
Browning  fell  in  love  with  Eliza- 
beth Barrett.  At  the  same  period 
his  headaches  began!  Up  to  that 
time  he  had  been  free  from  such 
symptoms.  The  relation  between 
the  heart  and  the  head  may  be  close ! 
For  many  years  he  writes  of  these 
headaches.  In  1846  he  says:  "I 
am  rather  hazy  in  the  head."  He 
also  says :  "For  all  the  walking  my 
headaches."  He  adds  too:  "With 
the  deep  joy  in  my  heart  below, 
what  does  my  head  mean  by  its 
perversity4?" 

35 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

But  the  college  girl  should  free 
herself  from  such  sufferings  and  in- 
capacities. She  is  not  to  allow  her- 
self to  be  plagued  by  headaches  or 
heartaches,  or  indigestion  or  nerv- 
ousness. She  is  to  keep  herself 
well,  both  for  the  sake  of  good 
health  and  for  the  sake  also  of  giv- 
ing the  impression  of  being  able  to 
do  good  work. 

Third,  health  not  only  gives  the 
impression  of  being  able  to  do 
things,  but  health  also  gives  the 
power  of  doing  things.  Health  is 
good  blood;  good  blood  aids  in  vig- 
orous thinking.  Health  is  sound 
muscle;  sound  muscle  is  executive 
action.  Health  is  calm  nerves; 

36 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


calm  nerves  promote  sound  judg- 
ment. Woman's  life  is  a  round  of 
duties  punctuated  by  crises.  The 
crises  may  be  glorious  or  inglorious. 
The  way  one  follows  this  round 
without  permanent  weariness,  the 
way  one  meets  these  crises,  de- 
pends largely  upon  physical  sound- 
ness. 


In  college,  furthermore,  you  are 
not  to  forget  the  large  human  rela- 
tions. One  is  not  to  be  "cribbed, 
cabined  or  confined."  One  is  to  be 
a  unit.  One  is  to  place  about  one- 
self other  units.  One  may  form 
small  unities,  but  one  is  not  to  keep 

37 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

oneself  to  small  unities.  The  stu- 
dent is  to  belong  to  her  class;  that 
is  good.  She  is  to  belong  to  her  col- 
lege; that  is  better.  She  is  to  be- 
long— and  it  is  a  far  cry — she  is  to 
belong  to  humanity. 

I  sometimes  think  I  could  go  into 
a  group  of  college  girls  and  pick 
out  those  who  come  from  Vassar, 
or  from  Smith,  or  from  Wellesley. 
Mannerisms  in  speech  or  dress  or 
certain  interpretations  of  life  would 
reveal  academic  origins.  I  should 
like  for  all  college  graduates  to  be 
distinguished  by  the  mere  absence 
of  mannerisms,  of  characteristics — 
to  have  one  manner,  one  character — 
the  largest  understanding,  the  deep- 

38 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


est  love  for,  the  highest  loyalty  to, 
all  human  interests. 

Women  are  usually  more  seclu- 
sive  and  exclusive  than  men.  They 
shut  others  out  and  themselves  in 
more.  Commerce,  industry,  compel 
men  to  be  democrats.  Trade  has  no 
aristocracy.  Because  the  college  girl 
lacks  this  aid,  she  should  be  the  more 
eager  to  make  use  of  every  oppor- 
tunity to  become  one  with  all.  One 
is  to  be  democratic.  One  is  to  make 
use  of  every  opportunity  of  democ- 
racy. Snobbishness  is  bad  in  a  man, 
worse  in  a  woman.  One's  relation 
to  all  people  is  to  be  fundamental 
and  essential. 

Another  suggestion  emerges.    It 

39 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

relates  to  the  education  for  powe? 
and  the  education  for  cultivation. 
There  are  books  which  may  be  called 
books  of  power,  and  also  there  are 
books,  which  may  be  called  books  of 
cultivation.  Mill's  "Logic,"  Adam 
Smith's  "Wealth  of  Nations,"  be- 
long to  the  first  class.  They  are  the 
result  of  great  intellectual  force, 
and  they  are  creators  also  of  intel- 
lectual force.  On  the  other  hand, 
poems  are  peculiarly  books  of  culti- 
vation. The  same  difference  exists 
in  education.  There  is  the  educa- 
tion which  creates  great  thinking. 
No  one  can  read  Mill's  "Logic," 
without  becoming  stronger.  But 
there  is  an  education  of  another  sort 

4° 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


quite  as  important.    It  is  the  edu- 
cation which  cultivates. 

Who  is  the  cultivated  person? 
Some  would  say  that  the  cultivated 
person  is  the  person  of  beautiful 
manners,  of  acquaintance  with  the 
noblest  social  customs,  who  is  at 
home  in  any  society  or  association. 
Such  a  definition  is  not  to  be 
spurned.  For  is  it  not  said,  "Man- 
ners make  the  man?"  Manners 
make  the  man!  Do  manners  then 
create  the  man?  Do  manners  give 
reputation  to  the  man?  Do  man- 
ners express  the  character  of  the 
man?  Which  of  the  three  interpre- 
tations is  sound?  Or  does  each  in- 
terpretation intimate  a  side  of  the 

41 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

polygon?  The  way  one  accepts  or 
declines  a  note  of  invitation,  the 
way  one  uses  her  voice,  the  way  one 
enters  or  retires  from  a  room  may, 
or  may  not,  be  little  in  itself,  but 
the  simple  act  is  evidence  of  condi- 
tions. For  is  not  manner  the  com- 
parative of  man?  It  is  not  the  su- 
perlative ! 

Others  would  affirm  that  the  culti- 
vated person  is  the  person  who  ap- 
preciates the  best  which  life  offers. 
Appreciation  is  both  intellectual, 
emotional,  volitional.  It  is  discrim- 
ination plus  sympathy.  It  contains 
a  dash  of  admiration.  It  recognizes 
and  adopts  the  best  in  every  achieve- 
ment— the  arts,  literature,  poetry, 
42 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


sculpture,  painting,  architecture. 
The  cultivated  person  seeks  out  the 
least  unworthy  in  the  unworthy, 
and  the  most  worthy  in  that  which 
is  at  all  worthy.  The  person  of  cul- 
tivation knows,  compares,  relates, 
judges.  He  has  standards,  and  he 
applies  them  to  things,  measures, 
methods.  His  moral  nature  is  fine, 
as  his  intellectual  is  honest.  He  is 
filled  with  reverence  for  truth,  duty, 
righteousness.  He  is  humble,  for 
he  knows  how  great  is  truth,  how  im- 
perative duty.  He  is  modest,  for 
he  respects  others.  He  is  patient 
with  others  and  with  himself,  for  he 
knows  how  unattainable  is  the  right. 
He  can  be  silent  when  in  doubt. 

43 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

He  can  speak  alone  when  truth  is 
unpopular.  He  is  willing  to  lose 
his  voice  in  the  "choir  invisible." 
He  is  a  man  of  proportion,  reality, 
sincerity,  honesty,  justice,  temper- 
ance— intellectual  and  ethical. 

Such  is  a  cultivation  which  be- 
longs to  all.  But  there  is  a  special 
cultivation,  I  think,  which  belongs 
to  woman.  Of  that  unique  charac- 
ter and  interpreter,  Clarence  King, 
my  old  teacher  and  friend,  Henry 
Adams  has  said : 

"At  best,  King  had  but  a  poor 
opinion  of  intellect,  chiefly  because 
he  found  it  so  defective  an  instru- 
ment, but  he  admitted  that  it  was 
all  the  male  had  to  live  upon;  while 

44 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


the  female  was  rich  in  the  inherit- 
ance of  every  animated  energy  back 
to  the  polyps  and  crystals." 

That  "animated  energy"  other 
than  intellectual,  as  well  as  intel- 
lectual, the  college  woman  is  to  de- 
velop and  to  make  the  most  of.  It 
is  a  treasure  rich  and  significant. 
It  represents  elements  which  men 
have  not,  as  a  rule,  received.  It 
stands  for  a  personality  which  has 
the  best  elements  of  refinement  and 
of  charm.  Efficiency  may  accom- 
pany its  existence,  but  efficiency  is 
not  to  be  allowed  to  interfere  with 
its  development  and  impressiveness. 

The  college  girl,  be  it  added, 
should  make  certain  fundamental 

45 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

discriminations.  She  should  dis- 
criminate between  self-respect  and 
self-consciousness,  between  emo- 
tional admirations  and  intellectual 
appreciations,  between  learning  a 
book  and  learning  a  subject,  be- 
tween trained  force  and  untrained 
power,  between  respect  for  others' 
judgment  and  catering  to  others' 
prejudices,  between  social  pleasures 
and  social  re-creations.  In  her 
personal  life,  too,  she  should  not 
neglect  the  distinction  between  be- 
ing calm  and  being  stolid,  between 
trustfulness  and  indifference,  be- 
tween carefulness  and  fussiness,  be- 
tween thoughtfulness  and  anxiety, 
between  piety  and  pietism,  between 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


a  general  plan  and  purpose  for  life 
and  the  fortune  teller's  desire  for 
details,  between  seriousness  and 
somberness,  between  levity  and  wit, 
between  patience  and  ploddingness. 
These  differentiations  have  im- 
mediate practical  value.  One  can- 
not take  all  that  the  college  offers. 
Plants  draw  from  the  soil  not  all  the 
soil  offers  but  only  that  which  they 
need.  Roses  take  what  heliotropes 
may  refuse.  The  college  girl  should 
select  for  herself  from  all  the  aca- 
demic offerings  that  which  is  best  for 
herself;  the  rest  is  to  be  discarded. 


47 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

VI 

But,  perhaps,  the  one  great  com- 
prehensive thing  I  want  to  say  to 
you,  as  you  do  turn  your  face  away 
from  your  home,  is  to  get  the  best 
for  yourself  from  the  college.  That 
may  sound  very  selfish — perhaps  it 
is — but  wait  a  bit.  Yet  at  the  peril 
of  seeming  unusually  selfish,  let  me 
emphasize  for  yourself.  For  do  you 
know  that  what  in  college  may  be 
best  for  one  girl  may  not  be  best 
for  another?  It  may  be  well  for  one 
girl  to  give  special  heed  to  her 
health,  through  the  gymnasium  and 
long  walks  and  longer  sleeps;  for 
another  to  make  most  effort  to  over- 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


come  her  self-consciousness;  for  an- 
other girl  also  to  do  her  scholastic 
work  with  special  excellence  that 
she  may  become  the  most  efficient 
teacher.  Let  each  try  to  find  in  the 
college  the  supply  of  her  dire  and 
direct  wants,  and  the  direness  of 
these  wants  differs.  It  is  also  plain 
enough  that  your  education  must 
educate  you.  Does  not  one  deriva- 
tion of  the  word  indicate  that  this 
thing  we  call  education  is  a  draw- 
ing out,  a  leading  out  of  one's  in- 
born tendencies,  a  development  of 
what  the  philosophers  call  the  in- 
nate? No  gardener  tries  to  raise 
cabbages  from  cucumber  seeds. 
Your  father  may  wish  that  you  had 

49 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

more  and  better  stuff  in  you,  but 
you  are  what  you  are,  and  educa- 
tion must  educate  that  individual 
and  that  individuality  which  na- 
ture out  of  all  her  material  made 
you.  Yet,  despite  all  this,  girls 
and  boys  are  surprisingly  alike,  and 
all  girls  have  largely  the  same  needs. 

Get  the  best  for  yourself,  there- 
fore I  repeat. 

In  the  best  for  yourself  are  several 
things  that  I  want  out  of  my  experi- 
ence to  tell  you  about. 

VII 

One  of  these  things  I  shall  call 
appreciation.    Perhaps  I  had  better 
call  what  I  have  in  mind  a  love  for 
50 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


the  best,  if  in  this  big-little  world 
of  love  I  can  put  in  two  or  three 
things.  I  want  you  to  know  what 
is  the  best,  I  want  you  then  to  love 
this  best,  and  then  I  want  you  to 
make  this  best  a  part  of  yourself. 

In  this  knowing,  loving,  incorpo- 
ration I  want  first  to  include  your 
teachers.  Sometimes  college  pro- 
fessors say  that  college  life  would 
be  very  interesting  were  there  no 
students;  students  might  return  the 
ball  by  saying  college  life  would 
be  all  right  were  there  no  professors. 
But  all  college  people  know  that 
each  would  be  "useless  without  the 
other."  Now,  you  will  find  your 
teachers  in  college,  like  teachers  in 

51 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

school  everywhere,  and  like  all 
other  folks,  having  a  great  variety 
of  abilities.  You  are  coming  to  col- 
lege with  the  idea,  possibly,  that 
each  professor  is  pretty  near  perfec- 
tion. Well,  keep  on  thinking  so  till 
you  are  obliged  to  think  otherwise; 
but  you  will  soon  find  that  they  are 
a  bit  nearer  perfection  in  certain  lat- 
itudes and  longitudes  than  in  others. 
What  I  want  you  to  do  is  this :  take 
each  one  at  his  best,  and  leave  him 
as  much  alone  as  you  can  in  his  not- 
best.  When  I  was  a  Freshman  I 
had  two  teachers  in  Latin.  With 
them  each  I  read  Livy  and  Horace. 
One  of  them  was  a  close,  accurate, 
painstaking  scholar.  The  chief  im- 
52 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


pression  I  bore  away  from  him  was 
that  the  Latin  language  was  made 
up  largely  of  a  thing  called  "the  sub- 
junctive." Well,  it  did  me  good,  I 
am  sure.  It  helped  to  make  me 
accurate,  I  presume.  The  other 
teacher  helped  me  to  feel  the 
strength  of  Livy's  well-knit  sen- 
tences and  to  give  me  a  sense  of 
style  through  the  well-chosen  ep- 
ithets of  Horace's  verses.  Each  did 
a  bit  for  me.  Each  did  what  the 
other  could  not  do.  Take  your 
teachers  at  their  best,  and  try  to  for- 
get the  weak  and  unworthy  parts. 


53 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

VIII 

I  also  want  you  to  have  an  appre- 
ciation of  the  best  books.  You  have 
the  advantage  of  having  been 
brought  up  in  a  library.  Books 
have  been  so  common  a  part  of  your 
furniture  and  of  your  home  that  you 
may  be  in  peril  of  not  knowing  that 
some  books  are  good,  some  better, 
and  some  best.  Do  you  recall  Ba- 
con's interpretation  ?  I  want  you  to 
know,  to  love,  and  to  make  your  own 
the  best  books  of  all  sorts  of  litera- 
ture. You  have  read  novels,  many, 
— keep  on  reading.  But  remember 
that  Scott  is  more  worthy  than 
Cooper,  Thackeray  than  Dickens, 

54 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


George  Eliot  than  Thomas  Hardy. 
You  like  poetry,  like  it  more,  but  I 
need  not  tell  you  that  Wordsworth 
is  superior  to  Longfellow,  Brown- 
ing to  Whittier,  Tennyson  to  Low- 
ell, Shelley  to  Emerson.  Among 
books  the  good  is  often  the  worst 
enemy  of  the  best.  Cultivate  the 
best,  yet  read  what  you  like,  but  let 
what  you  like  be  the  highest  of  its 
kind  of  to-day,  and  this  will  lead 
you  to  a  higher  kind  to-morrow. 
When  I  think  what  a  love  of  the  best 
books  will  mean  to  you  all  your  life, 
in  its  companionships,  its  exalta- 
tions, its  struggles  and  sorrows,  I 
feel  so  glad  that  the  chance  of  mak- 
ing this  love  large  and  real  is  yours. 

55 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

I  should  like  to  say  the  same  to 
you  about  music.  But  I  feel  I  can- 
not. The  best  book  is  always  on 
your  table.  The  best  music  you 
must  go  to  hear:  it  is  occasional. 
Yet  hear  all  you  can  rightfully. 
But  I  do  wish  you  could  play  the 
violin,  or  the  piano — or  something! 
But  pictures? — yes,  they  may  be 
kept  before  you.  It  is  better  to 
have  good  copies  of  great  pictures 
than  original  second  and  third-rate 
pictures,  even  if  you  could  afford 
them.  Have  a  copy  of  a  Raphael, 
of  a  Leonardo,  of  a  Correggio,  or 
some  other  master,  on  the  wall  of 
your  room. 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


IX 

But  I  do  want  you  to  get  the  best 
out  of  your  college  life.  Almost  the 
best  thing  you  can  do  in  college  or 
out  of  college  is  to  live  your  life, 
— live  your  life  truly,  deeply, 
bravely,  highly,  largely.  Live  your 
life  with  what  I  shall  call  the  "buoy- 
ancy of  right  living."  Certain  na- 
tures lift  one  like  a  balloon.  Cer- 
tain natures  depress  one  like  lead 
flung  into  the  water.  Vitality,  full- 
ness of  life,  buoyancy,  represent 
most  precious  qualities.  These 
qualities  are  the  result  of  right  liv- 
ing. The  man  whose  living  is  right 
is  naturally  the  man  of  a  buoyant, 

57 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

hopeful,  aggressive,  progressive 
temperament.  Nothing  so  makes  a 
man  a  "hang-dog"  as  doing  wrong. 
I  notice  that  prisoners  in  a  jail 
usually  look  down.  The  gaze  of 
the  chain-gang  is  earthward,  not 
skyward.  Right  done  makes  the 
pulse  more  full,  steady,  regular. 
Wrong  done  makes  the  pulse  thin, 
sharp,  nervous.  The  ministry  of 
the  virtues  of  truth,  knowledge,  and 
love  make  sleep  sounder,  appetite 
better,  voice  cheerier,  eye  clearer, 
step  brisker,  one's  whole  presence 
more  vital. 

In  this  college  life,  are  many, 
many  things.  I  want  you  to  have  a 
share  in  all  college  affairs.  If  you 

58 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


are  asked,  as  I  hope  and  believe  you 
will  be,  to  join  some  college  clubs, 
of  course  accept,  but  do  not  belong 
to  too  many  of  them.  But  take  a 
part  in  all  college  fun,  parties, 
theatricals,  festivities.  Do  your 
share,  and  more,  from  your  time  and 
from  your  purse.  College  life  in 
many  ways  tends  towards  selfish- 
ness. The  undergraduate  activities, 
—pranks,  frivolities,  and  earnest,  se- 
rious work,  will  help  to  keep  you 
large  and  liberal. 

X 

Another  best  of  the  college  is  your 
atmosphere  of  friendliness  and  your 
friendships.  The  college  has  ceased 

59 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

to  be  a  nunnery;  it  has  become  a 
community.  Cultivate  the  sense  of 
good  fellowship !  Be  able,  of  course, 
to  stand  alone.  Be  able,  of  course, 
if  necessary,  to  stand  opposed  to  all. 
Be  able  to  speak  of  the  eleven  ob- 
stinate and  foolish  jurors,  who 
would  not  agree  with  you,  the 
twelfth.  Said  Athanasius,  when 
told  that  the  world  was  against  him, 
"I  am  against  the  world."  But  in 
your  independence  and  antagonism, 
always  remember  to  be  gracious. 
Agree  with  others  so  far  as  you  can. 
Emphasize  likenesses,  not  differ- 
ences. Bring  yourself  into  close 
association  with  everybody  you  can. 
In  particular  know  women  of  train- 
60 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


ing  and  conditions  unlike  your  own. 
Be  broad  in  experience  as  well  as  in 
observation.  Have  your  sets,  your 
societies.  Cultivate  them.  But 
have  yourself  beyond  your  set,  your 
society.  Dr.  R.  S.  Storrs  once  wrote 
me  saying,  that  among  his  blessed 
companionships  in  college  was  that 
of  Father  Hewitt,  the  distinguished 
Roman  Catholic  prelate.  Be  sure 
that  every  friendship  lifts.  Be  sure 
that  your  friendship  lifts  every  man 
and  woman.  Be  sure  that  the 
friendship  of  every  man  and  woman 
lifts  you.  Life  is  rich  or  poor  as  it 
has  friends.  The  great  Darwin 
once  wrote  to  Dr.  Hooker  that  love 
is  far  more  than  fame  or  scholarship. 
61 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

--  -- 

Let  me  also  suggest  that  friendships 
should  be  formed  not  by  accident, 
but  by  choice.  It  often  means  too 
much  who  is  the  first  woman  that  a 
new  student  meets  on  the  college 
campus.  Let  your  friends  not  only 
be  choice,  let  them  also  be  chosen. 
It  is  more  than  plain  to  the  reader 
of  the  biography  of  Jowett  that  he 
loved  all  college  men,  and  it  is  said 
of  him  that  "although  the  genius  of 
Swinburne,  the  ever-active  brain  of 
J.  A.  Symonds  and  the  vigorous  in- 
dividuality of  John  Nichol  were 
largely  independent  of  his  teaching, 
they  yet  owed  to  him  what  was  more 
valuable  still,  the  blessing  of  a 
friendship  that  never  wavered, 
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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


which  gave  unstinted  help  at  critical 
moments  both  in  youth  and  after 
life,  and  would  make  any  sacrifice 
of  leisure  and  of  ease  to  serve  them." 
The  friendships  of  a  boy  in  college 
mean  much, — remember  your  In 
Memoriam, — but  I  believe  that  the 
friendships  of  college  girls  may  mean 
more.  You  will  make  friends  for 
life  and  for  all  of  life's  experience. 
Now,  there  are  two  things  you 
should  avoid  in  making  friendships, 
— narrowness  and  intensity.  I  know 
some  girls  who  are  seclusive;  they 
shut  themselves  up  in  their  friend- 
ships;— they  are  exclusive:  they 
shut  other  girls  out.  This  is  bad. 
Women  are  in  more  peril  of  social 

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Letters  from  a  Father  to 

narrowness  than  men.  They  ought, 
therefore,  to  seek  to  cultivate 
breadth,  generosity,  and  inclusive- 
ness.  Have  many  friends,  "and 
more  and  more  and  more."  Narrow- 
ness leads  to  a  more  serious  defect, 
namely,  too  great  intensity  in 
friendship.  Keep  your  friendships 
sane,  healthful,  healthy,  helpful, 
natural.  Let  them  be  growths,  like 
rose  bushes,  not  manufactures,  like 
artificial  flowers.  Do  not  force 
them.  I  do  not  care  if  you  take  all 
the  Freshman  year  for  making 
friends. 

Did  I  not  give  counsel,  with  a  bit 
of  apology,  that  you  get  the  best  for 
yourself  from  the  college*?  This 


His  Daughter  Entering  College 


counsel  applies  to  friendship.  But 
do  you  know  the  way  for  getting  the 
very  best  friendship  for  yourself? 
Of  course  you  do.  It  is  to  give  the 
best  of  yourself.  And  do  you  know 
the  surest  way  of  giving  the  best  of 
yourself?  Why,  of  course, — it  is  to 
find  the  best  in  the  other  girl.  That 
other  girl  has  her  best  and  her  not- 
best,  just  like  you.  Find  that  best, 
and  help  her  to  make  that  best  yet 
better.  In  offering  to  make  the  best 
yet  better,  you  will  see,  and  she  will 
see,  too,  that  what  is  not  best  is  be- 
ing lifted  up  toward  the  best  itself. 
Is  it  not  unspeakable  to  think  that 
a  friendship  may  deprave  or  debase? 
How  beautiful  to  find  friendships 

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Letters  from  a  Father  to 

that  lift,  and  enlarge,  and  inspire 
both. 

But  if  you  are  to  get  the  best  out 
of  the  others,  they  too,  are  to  get 
the  best  out  of  you.  For  others  to 
get  the  best  out  of  you  depends  upon 
those  others,  and  it  also  rests  with 
you  somewhat.  With  you  the  re- 
sponsibility is  put  largely  on  your 
manners.  Good  manners  are  im- 
portant enough  for  man,  but  they 
are  almost  too  important  for 
woman.  In  manners  for  both  men 
and  women  the  most  important 
words  are  graciousness,  consider- 
ateness.  Considerateness  is  both 
the  intellectual  and  intelligent 
part  of  thoughtfulness  and  thinkr 
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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


ing.  It  also  includes  the  emotional 
part  of  sympathy.  It  stands  for 
thinking  of  the  other  person,  her 
rights,  her  conditions,  her  needs,  her 
achievements,  and  it  also  means 
having  a  feeling  for  all  those  rights 
and  conditions.  Graciousness  is  a 
still  stronger  application  of  consid- 
erateness ;  it  is  doing  a  favor,  show- 
ing a  kindness  to  those  who  have  no 
special  claim  for  such  favor  or  kind- 
ness. 

Good  manners  are  a  fine  art;  the 
fine  arts  are  designed  to  give  pleas- 
ure. There  is  such  a  big  part  of  the 
good  and  the  best  in  you  that  I  am 
eager  for  other  folks  beside  your 
family  to  share  in  it.  Your  consid- 


Letters  from  a  Father  to 

erateness  of  them,  your  graciousness 
toward  them  will  enable  you  to  get 
the  best.  It  is  largely  on  your  part 
a  mood,  a  mood  which  you  can  cul- 
tivate, a  point  of  view,  too,  which 
you  will  normally  and  naturally 
take. 

XI 

But  besides  the  general  interpre- 
tation of  these  special  things  which 
will  help  people  to  get  the  best  from 
you,  are  one  or  two  other  details. 
One  is,  your  voice.  The  voice 
should  give  pleasure  to  one  who 
hears  it.  You  need  not  fear  being 
too  much  unlike  your  fellow-coun- 
trymen if  your  voice  is  sweet  and 
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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


even.  Oh,  the  Vox  Americana! 
Take  every  means  which  the  college 
offers  for  making  your  voice  pleas- 
ant. 

Another  special  thing  which  indi- 
cates considerateness,  is  a  good 
handwriting.  I  do  not  know  as  it 
is  a  function  of  a  college  to  teach 
you  handwriting.  The  fact  is  that 
probably  the  President  of  your  col- 
lege writes  a  very  bad  hand.  I 
know  that  one  great  cause  of  your 
and  most  folks'  bad  writing  is  the 
examination  paper,  and  note-taking, 
which  must  be  done  quickly.  But 
remember  there  are  two  undesirable 
things  in  penmanship;  illegibility 
and  uncouthness.  Some  writing 

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Letters  from  a  Father  to 

may  be  illegible  and  still  be  the 
writing  of  a  lady  or  gentleman. 
Some  writing  may  be  uncouth  but 
legible.  It  is  important  that  your 
writing  should  be  easy  to  read  and 
pleasant  to  look  at. 

All  this  is  very  personal,  but  I  am 
going  to  be  still  more  so.  Dress? — 
yes,  I  am  interested  in  your  being 
well  dressed.  The  impression  which 
you  make  on  others  depends  largely 
upon  the  way  you  are  dressed. 
Dress  makes  the  man  and  also  makes 
the  woman.  Good  dressing  need 
not  be  expensive;  good  dressing  is 
dressing  in  good  taste,  and  good 
taste  is  more  a  matter  of  judgment 
than  of  purse.  Good  dressing  is  be- 
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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


ing  so  dressed  that  no  one  can  tell, 
half  an  hour  after  meeting  you,  how 
you  were  dressed,  so  complete  was 
the  fitness  of  the  habit  to  the  inhabi- 
tant. Like  the  best  window  glass, 
dress  should  never  call  attention  to 
itself. 

Now  these  three  things,  voice, 
writing  and  dress  are,  in  part,  at 
least,  under  your  own  control.  Make 
them  each  such  that  they  shall  give 
forth  the  best  of  yourself  to  your 
many  friends.  You  are  going  to 
college,  not  to  a  finishing  school. 
The  finishing  school  does  look  after 
this  trinity  of  graces;  the  college  is 
in  peril  of  not  looking  after  it.  It 
is  liable  to  regard  such  externalities 

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Letters  from  a  Father  to 

as  unworthy  of  notice.  I  am  in- 
clined to  think  that  the  college 
should  have  regard  for  such  things. 
But,  perhaps,  the  reason  the  college 
does  not  take  notice  is  that  it  be- 
lieves you  are  so  mature,  so  wise, 
that  you  are  able  to  look  after  these 
things  yourself.  For  your  educa- 
tion is  to  make  you  a  thinker,  and  a 
person  who  thinks  should  be  able  to 
look  after  such  things.  I  cannot 
better  close  this  part  of  my  letter 
than  by  giving  you  what  Matthew 
Arnold  says  in  the  preface  of  his 
"Mixed  Essays"  about  the  powers 
which  contribute  to  the  building  up 
of  human  civilization.  They  are 
the  power  of  conduct,  the  power  of 
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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


social  life  and  manners,  the  power 
of  intellect  and  knowledge,  the 
power  of  beauty.  Here  are  the  con- 
ditions of  civilization,  the  claimants 
which  a  man  must  satisfy  before  he 
can  be  humanized. 

XII 

I  want  to  say  one  thing  more.  It 
is  perhaps  the  most  important,  as  it 
is  the  most  serious  of  all  I  have  tried 
to  write.  Get  the  best  and  most  out 
of  your  religion.  You  are  religious, 
I  know,  not  only  by  formal  act,  but 
by  the  instincts  of  your  nature.  Re- 
ligion is  the  greatest  thing, — one 
might  say,  the  only  thing.  The  re- 
lation which  one  bears  to  the  Su- 

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Letters  from  a  Father  to 

preme  Being  is  the  most  important. 
It  is  the  background  of  life,  the  sky 
of  destiny.  Now  so  many  people 
do  not  get  much  out  of  their  religion, 
and  religion  certainly  does  not  get 
much  out  of  them.  I  want  you  to 
get  much  and  to  give  much.  Inter- 
pret life  in  the  terms  of  the  personal 
creator;  sympathize  with  life  in 
terms  of  righteousness;  will  life  as 
a  personal  good. 

In  this  interpretation  of  life  I 
want  to  suggest  to  you  three  things 
as  helps.  First,  prayer.  Emerson 
somewhere  says  that  every  man 
must  pray.  The  mood  of  the  prayer 
and  the  act  of  prayer  belong  to  the 
devout  soul.  Second,  the  church. 

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His  Daughter  Entering  College 


Keep  up  your  church  life.  I  have 
reason  to  know  how  poor  and  un- 
worthy the  church  is,  how  stupid 
much  preaching  is,  but  make  the 
service  of  the  church  worship  even 
if  you  cannot  make  it  instruction  or 
inspiration.  Third,  Sunday.  Many 
college  boys  and  girls  study  Sunday. 
It  is  very  foolish;  they  think  they 
have  to.  Their  belief  arises  from  a 
lack  of  forethought  or  prudent  plan- 
ning. Use  Sunday  for  a  time  of  in- 
terpretation, reflection,  inspiration. 
Make  each  day,  too,  like  George 
Herbert's  Sunday,  "The  bridal  of 
the  earth  and  sky." 
Good-bye,  dear  girl. 
With  love, 

YOUR  FATHER. 
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